What She Saw, What He Knew
by Dobby's Socks
Summary: "He wished, desperately wished, he was instead this man she saw in him, who could perhaps one day settle to her secret dreams of living a normal life—that strangest of adventures—together. But the Doctor knew better." My thoughts on the Doctor and Rose. Starts with Nine, but mostly deals with Ten, a realistic introspection. Not really shippy. References some S1 and S2 episodes


**Ok, so I've wanted to do this one for a while. It's really sort of me getting my thoughts out the logistics of the whole 'Ten and Rose' thing, which I've never seen why the writers on the show went with other than to up the ratings. It's not going to be overly shippy at all, so if that might upset you, I'm letting you know now. I still wouldn't mind if you let me know your thoughts, though. I hope this helps to explain my view on the issue and that it is also at the same time worth reading. Enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**What She Saw, What He Knew**

The emotions of a young, basically adolescent female were strange to the Doctor. He could hardly keep up. One minute Rose was dancing on the roof of a spaceship with Jack Harkness, 51st century conman, the next she was asking to see _his_ moves. And that was without putting Mickey—that was the name, right?—into the mix.

He was happier when she was around, and knew it was a good feeling. His hearts hadn't felt this light since he'd last travelled with someone, and that had been so long ago. He'd nearly forgotten what that felt like.

He was able to fallback, mostly, on the old routine. It was like riding a quadricycle. Show her around the universe, wait for her to wander off and find the danger or simply find it himself, pull off some spectacular feat to save them and everyone else on whatever planet, then back to the TARDIS. So maybe it had taken on a slightly rougher tone, so maybe it all seemed dulled to him. Little by little, just glimpsing the wonder in her eyes at it all was starting to bring it back to him, and he could see it; the universe, ever changing and growing. And that was enough for both of them.

But then he died. And in her eyes, _everything_ changed.

It wasn't the kiss he was worried about, if it was to be called that. There hadn't been much time left and it had been the most effective conduit. She didn't even remember. They'd shared one more laugh and a conversation, though he hadn't been sure why he'd put on such a brave face for this girl who hadn't listened, had ripped open his TARDIS, had reduced the Daleks to _dust_, had turned Jack into something that he'd rather run from, and he'd had to kill himself for. And it had all been in his name; he felt a thrill of terror, wondering just what she, or anyone else, would be willing to do in his name.

What he'd had to worry about immediately in this new body with new teeth and more hair than he knew what to do with, was her anger and mistrust and shouting. It was fair, he supposed. After all, she'd worked so hard to save Big Ears, and now she was stuck with this skinny git. At least she didn't have to _be_ this skinny git.

He got over it easily enough as he, as any Time Lord, always did. But so did she.

It was somewhere after the satsuma, when she began grinning at him. Strange, shy little grins that he'd never seen directed at him before. Still a bit wary of her cries that he'd left her, her initial suspicions about who he was and that he couldn't possibly be the Doctor, he played it safe. They had Christmas dinner—Christmas dinner! How dreadfully domestic—at the Powell Estate. And then, after brief mutual assurances, they were off travelling again, the Doctor and Rose Tyler in the TARDIS.

Only now, the jokes got friendlier, the hugs lasted longer, and she looked at him like she'd looked at Mickey and Adam and Jack. He was unaccustomed to this, couldn't see at first why she should be doing that to him now, what about a new body had changed things.

Yet still, each time she gave him one of those grins with her tongue poking through the teeth or they laughed over a shared packet of chips, he couldn't help being overwhelmed with joy at the thought that _he _was the reason she was happy. He, the Oncoming Storm, the Destroyer of Worlds, the Predator, had put that smile there, had made her laugh. He didn't have to be a warrior anymore, not around her. It was easier for him to see that now with this new face, this face that she seemed particularly to like. But he was still the Doctor and she was still Rose, right?

It wasn't until he'd wheeled the moped out onto the street and offered his best—terrible—Elvis impression that he saw that no, they weren't. Not to her. She was still Rose, yes. But he wasn't him.

The nuance was slight, but very much there. Oh, she knew of his more infamous titles and his part of the Time War and even his sadness and rage to a large extent, which he'd learned to let go of every so often for her. And _that_ was what she saw: the young, fresh face that laid overtop, that was so very glad to be traveling with her. The man he was trying to be for her sake. But that wasn't all that he was.

To know him, all of him, would be too much perhaps for anyone, let alone Rose Tyler, twenty year-old former shop girl. There was so much knowledge and darkness and grief, so many secrets buried within him. Centuries worth.

And she so often talked about forever, about _their_ forever, but there was no they to even think about. Much as it pained both his hearts, he knew that someday she would leave, she would have to. He tried to make her see it, too. She stubbornly resisted that logic, ever determined to look on the bright side of things, just one of the many reasons he was drawn to her.

She was drawn increasingly to the good parts, the romantic aspects if he allowed, of his kind of life; the mad traveling, the goofy quirks, the way things just managed to turn out alright enough that the TARDIS was still waiting for them whenever they had to run. But that wasn't a life a human could sustain.

They'd had that brief scare on that absolutely impossible planet, with the TARDIS down the mine. Brilliant Rose had started in on making plans, how they'd manage, what kind of work they could find, where they'd live—together. And all the while he had been panicking at the idea of _domesticity_ with Rose Tyler. Waiting and watching and having no way to distract himself as she slowly and yet much too quickly withered and died before his eyes.

In her eyes, it was as though he suddenly became a Time Lord when it was useful, like when he needed to be particularly ingenious to save their lives or when a respiratory bypass or an extra heart were required. The rest of the time he became her funny, clever friend with a spaceship time machine who was also conveniently attractive and single.

He didn't begrudge her this. After all, it was only natural for her to think and feel like this; humans, so full of the capacity to love. And what he wouldn't give to be able to pretend with her, to put off the idea that this was only just another chapter—a happy chapter—in his long, long life. He didn't want to go on like he had been over the centuries and incarnations and lives of a Time Lord, didn't want to think about what he'd do once she was eventually gone. He wished, desperately wished, he was instead this man she saw in him, who could perhaps one day settle to her secret dreams of living a normal life—that strangest of adventures—together. But the Doctor knew better.

So when at last and so soon Rose Tyler stood on a beach on the worst day of her life and told him, in faltering voice, "I, I love you," he knew what she truly meant, even if she didn't. She loved the man he wanted to be. And he was in love with that love.

"Quite right, too."

**So yeah. That's just how I perceive their relationship. If you disagree, that's cool, I just wanted to get my thoughts down into words. So I'd love to hear any feedback, thanks for reading, and please review!**


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